


Seasons

by orphan_account



Category: DCU, DCU (Animated), Justice League: Gods and Monsters (2015)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Smut, Very Minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5389049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk Langstrom was five seasons to name.<br/>And truthfully, Hernan Guerra aware of that fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seasons

**Author's Note:**

> Man, really. I don't know why would I write this--It's just the amount of GaM ffs in here is not enough. Aha, so ta-daa.  
> And mates, Al, Barbara, Salty Birb, Vic, and fellow HernanKirk consumer out there, this is for you.

Kirk Langstrom was five seasons to name.

And truthfully, Hernan Guerra aware of that fact. 

 

* * *

**1.**  

**Hernan remembers the first time he met Kirk. Down at the docks, middle of the night; a rat in his mouth.**

 

Hernan couldn’t hear albeit single heartbeat, but he _sensed_ it. This pale man’s heart sealed off behind strata of ribcage, lying motionlessly with agony and wounds as its warmers. Something strange that contains cordiality diversified with insecurity is sprouting inside his heart, taking root and stem there; growing.

The scared, malnourished animal - looking man before his eyes stared in full angered flurry.

Strange, this man’s eyes are _so_ red, _bright red_.

Just like a blood – completely disparate from the lad’s own skin.

_Or_ literal blood, decorated the vampire’s sharp-edged beauty of a chin.

Hernan doesn’t have any idea the orbs’ color is pure _red_ – or it is just an echoes of humorless laugh from the owner’s unshed tears.

Those eyes looks pretty exhausted – maybe he let them play for way too long. Hernan wanted him to give them up; he wanted to make it rest.

So Hernan offered a hand, in which of _course_ the other one reject.

But how cool is that? That they are both were _obstinate_?

 

_“This has to be a kidnapping, point break. So get off me-!”_

 

Scratches. Bites. Clutches.

…carries.

(To be honest, Hernan vow he carried the shorter in that typical Disney princess style – bridal or something – but since this vampire is no princess, somehow now he get perched on Hernan’s shoulder like a sacks of rice.)

Eh, also there is blood, lots of blood.

Blame those fangs and sudden sharp nails on this stranger’s finger.

Hernan didn’t even flinched in pain—but forget that for a second.

Because right in front of Kirk’s eyes right now, there is _blood_.

He is _hungry_.

Well, _damn_.

 

_[And that, Kirk stopped Hernan’s common sense.]_

It was the first day of summer; Kirk’s final decision made Hernan chipper.

(Hernan swear to god – _or whoever creature up there because he doesn’t believe in god_ – that he will _help_ this _stranger_.)

_Boy_ , how Hernan drowned into those determined pair of alluring volcanic mudflow eyes.

 

* * *

**2.**

**Hernan remembers the first time he saw Kirk’s lips _smiled_. Months after Hernan saved him.**

 

Kirk’s graced smile fed up Hernan’s mind with saccharine narcotic. He sought for it, lived in it – evaded reality and devoured the curvature, one by one, until his smug fort crumbled, entirely _defeated_.

He treasures the lips sealed, curved upwards, and concealed between his.

How lucky that Kirk responds toward Hernan’s unexpected action positively.

The definite pale lips weren’t tasteless at all; don’t even scream of an infinite nothingness. Like leaves in autumn, the savor shrivels – melt into warmth. Like storms, it does excite sparks. Like afterlife, the sweetness last forever.

But for the sake of oxygen needs, Hernan dropped the kiss – yet the treacle still remains.

On Hernan’s marrow, Kirk’s also.

Another unexpected deed molded as _four words_ spilled from Hernan’s lips, landing on Kirk’s thought where they dribbled in. Kirk’s volcanic mudflow eyes freeze for a moment, maybe he didn’t believe (or understand) what was the superior alien just said.

It was the second day of winter; Kirk’s reply made the other shiver.

 

_“I don’t recognize kryptonian, but if you said that word, then, you too, cherish my life.”_

 

Both of them know what _is_ the true meaning between their gabs.

 

_[And that, Kirk stopped the time.]_

(For a while, Hernan forget how to save face by not to smile back.)

  

* * *

**3.**

**Hernan remembers the first time they celebrate Hernan’s birthday, some months more after their official _unity_.**

Hernan was a bit perplexed when he found out Kirk was lying in bed – _sleeping, covered by sky blue bedcover_ – earlier than usual. He _means_ it; Kirk was always going to bed after… after whenever his work – as a scientist – is finally done. But it seemed that today is not the day anymore.

Hernan hear the clock ticking and checked upon it; yep, it’s still eleven post meridiem. Undeniably too early.

Since Kirk doesn’t have a heartbeat, Hernan trying to listen to the pale vigilante’s respiratory rate. It still hasn’t exactly constant yet, maybe the vampire still awake – _or_ either way, the vampire was slept for sometime and just now wide awaken.

 

“Hernan?”

 

While lost in thought, Hernan was appalled after the ‘soft’ baritone voice creeping into his eardrums. Ah, maybe the second choice was the right one; because Kirk rubs his eyes, twiddle his waist and rouse his body with left hand as a support.

 

“Hello,” the older replied flatly – honestly he really doesn’t know what to reply. “Any particular reason _why_ are _you_ naked?”

 

Hernan’s left brow upraised while seeing Kirk’s topless body. Well, he _is_ kind of topless too, straight out finished took a bath after a long hard day in China. Only a sheet of white towel encircling his lower body part.

If Hernan’s own blue eyes aren’t deceiving his mind, it was absolutely assured that Kirk – _Robert Kirkland Langstrom; The goddamn **Batman** _ – smirked all the way from ear to ear.

Ooh, right. Hernan know _where_ would this conversation definitely go. This isn’t the first time Kirk tease him like this – _guess_ everyone know him as the dark vigilante, ex - monster; man who is _fear_ itself.

 

( _My_ , no one but Hernan even knows this man got an _adorable_ Batman flash disk.)

 

Kirk regains none verbal retort, but a smirk engraved down Hernan’s lips. Not as wide as Kirk’s, but it can be concluded as another contour sign of another dangerous occurrence. The one who held ‘Superman’ title unhurriedly walk to the bed and sit right beside the vampire.

Without bestowing any nonsense again, Kirk’s left hand reached to Hernan’s right wrist, toying his fingers thru the taller man’s derma covered vein. He puffed spoken melodies, fragrant sentimental buzzes – tantalizing layers of desires.

The fangs finally came out, they bit Hernan’s wrist _hard_ – yet obviously created no pain to the alien – and the tongue crawled, lick every drip of the leaked blood lustfully.

 

Which naturally made the adoptive Guerra turned on.

 

Kirk’s right hand grovels under Hernan’s hip; undo the knot of his white towel. It dropped to the bedside, and Kirk’s right palm continued to grovel on the man of steel’s thigh. His mouth and tongue is still working – _humming_ – on Guerra’s gory wrist, somehow, seductively.

 

“... _Well?_ ”

 

Every creature got his or her own boundary level. Hernan has reached his.

In no time, he turned into a beast.

A very, _very_ _starved_ beast.

 

Hernan run his breath all over Kirk’s bare chest, he went down – drenching himself into the shorter’s depth. Kirk’s legs quivering without cessation, his whimpers ruptured in contentment.

He eyed Kirk’s skin, nipped on it.

They stroke, linger, whisper; danced their fingers together.

Kirk’s abdomen glimmers under Hernan’s caress, surrender under his arrest.

_Maddening_ , enormously _encouraging_.

 

It was the third day of the fall; a whiff of realism decisively dropped like a handball.

Midnight, the grandfather clock in the living room tolling twelve times.

 

_Happy birthday, Hernan. I love you, don’t leave me._

—the sentence slithered out between pleasured whines, groans, moans, sweats.

 

_[And that, Kirk stopped Hernan’s hesitation.]_

 

The aftermath was sort of _average_ , since they cannot be categorized as a romantic couplet.

But maybe they’re sort of cuddled, sharing fervor. Have no idea about that.

(In the morning, Bekka should definitely asked why both of them were _so_ late to come in the _headquarter_ provided by A.R.G.U.S.)

(Or not because she must’ve known it already.)

 

* * *

**4.**

**Hernan remembers the first time he saw Kirk’s mien was rather mingled, but it did proclaim an optimistic sensation.**

“I can actually modify this _virus_ ’ gene by giving the _virus_ the gene that is codes for apoptosis. If the _virus_ merged to my infected DNA, activated itself in my DNA, it will inducing the apoptosis of the cell.” Kirk explained then frowned with a hint of anticipation crosswise his crimson eyes before continue.

“Therefore, the _virus_ will travel across my body and the metastasized infected cell in my DNA can also be destroyed.”

“So you’ll turn into a human again?”

“I don’t know, but I hope so…”

 

Kirk sighed, casually removing his laboratory goggles. He sits to the nearest chair and scours his face rather in frenzy. The vampire was about to make another talking while the alien cut him off.

“You _hope_ so?” inquired Hernan, scrunched his nose in antipathy. “You aren’t certain? You play with _virus,_ Kirk _._ The risk could be death.”

“I know.” he replied. “But at least I could try – I mean, there is a possibility that I can turn into normal person again. Focusing to my normal life, not to the life of a blood-sucking vigilante.”

“Langstrom.” Hernan’s voice altered into a sharp baritone one. “The risk could be death. _Death_.”

“But–“

“No.”

The latest answer was rather incisive and firm, even Hernan’s hand when he takes the liquor above Kirk’s laboratory table was rather harsh. The vampire was startled, trying to sit up and recapture it but as expected it was useless. This is _Superman_ he is facing.

“Hernan–“

“No, Kirk. You don’t know what are you _doing_ right now. The risk–“

“Death! Yes! But Hernan, everything that stands before my eyes could always be my dead cause. It’s _our thing_ , okay? I’m an adult; I know what I am doing. You saved me back then, and I got my confidence back. I know this is right, so _please_.”

Hernan ceased his strides; he looks stupefied for a moment. The man of steel’s right palm was making a fist while left one grabbing up the test tube that filled with some maroon colored fluid.

“ _That_ still won’t keep you safe from any harm.”

“That _worth_ the harm.” he given up a brief pause, “I would still try this, Hernan. With or without your permission.”

 

Hernan turned around. Once again, his orbs meet to Kirk’s alluring volcanic mudflow eyes. The eyes are full of willpower, there seems to be no hesitation rest upon it. His mien says no doubt, his eyes say courage.

He knows he will never succeed to change Kirk’s choice. Even at their first meeting, Kirk is one hell of a shellhead.

Hernan’s fort once again crumbled, entirely _conquered._

It was the forth day of spring; Hernan has no judgment left to swing.

 

_[And that, Kirk stopped everything. He even stopped Hernan’s desire to stop him.]_

“Alright–”

Ah, how happy. They never seem to argue _more_ than that, don’t they?

They really are four seasons to label. Four blossoming euphoria to title.

How happy.

 

“–but, in one condition.”

Except one thing.

Except they weren’t that _happy_ lovey-dovey of a couplet.

Except in their concept –

_the **fall** could certainly meet the **spring**._

Except Kirk cannot stop _everything_.

Like, you know –

 

- 

He cannot stop _death_ , can he?

 

* * *

**5.**

**There is the fifth season Hernan has yet to name.**

 

The season when Kirk weren’t mess, nor heaven; gentle, nor persistent. The season when Kirk cannot stop _a_ single thing.

The season where Kirk cannot stop the tears that flow to Hernan’s valley of cheeks.

It was raining that day, pouring hard. Even the sound of bird’s flutter successfully veiled. They don’t change their call, they don’t change anything at all. But that day, it was just suddenly cloudburst and silence.

Hernan’s face a little bit pale, with deep set blue eyes, his lips glued shut. His hands crossed beneath his chest, also with no expression whatsoever, a regret and grief is painted. The smell of frangipani flower pranced with the moist feature of rain invaded Hernan’s nose, spurt and deploying swarm of blankness.

Hernan mutely stand _there_ beside the grave and weep. Stare emptily at someone far within the charnel that sleeps. The rain won’t stop falling, and he wished it’d never stop, though. It could pet hundred of paddy fields – unlike those from his orbs that gone wasted.

Its felt like Kirk still stand there, peeking behind the tombstone – _smiling, snickering_. It hurts, really.

 

“Thought you’d live longer, beloved. It’s a sureness that we need each other, but I’m afraid I might need you a little bit more.” He shrugged. “Now you’re gone, and I just realized that. Takes you long time to know, and it happens when you’re already dead, K.”

“You sure love him so much… sorry, Hernan.” the shorter one dropped his gaze and play his fingers with the umbrella’s handle, rather gloomily.

“Not your fault, love. I’m the one who suggested _it_ must be tested on an animal first.” Hernan answered, his thumb shed the tears on his cheeks – rather gloomily also. “I shouldn’t take Kirk Jr. as the guinea pig.”

“Then.. Big Kirk, Kirk Sr. or ‘lil Kirk, it is then–“

“ _Nay_ , _dios mío_.” Hernan grumbled, turning around his body as lead himself and Kirk – the _real_ Kirk Langstrom – to their house, approximately 10 meters from this private park. Aka Kirk Jr. burial place.

“Not our cats again. Literal guinea pig.” He squinted. “Or not at all. Now learn, Kirk. Don’t use any chemical substance anymore on _your_ body. I remember the day when I said the possible result could be death.”

“Maybe if–“

“ _Langstrom_.”

 

The vampire just chuckled, his right hand remain around Hernan’s left arm. “Okay, okay. Sorry. Won’t do it again – probably, but you know me, Hernan. I won’t guarantee it.”

“And you know _me_ , sunshine. I got rules too.” the taller placed his left hand on the shorter’s shoulder, rubbing around with full intention of warmth under the polkadot umbrella.

“Naturally. And Hernan?”

“Yes, love?” the comeback released as they enter the house, leaving the umbrella on the frontage.

“Perhaps you should stop with the ‘Kirk’ names over them. It’s ambiguous.”

“It’s _adorable_. Remind me of someone I love the most in the world, the light of – “

“Oh no you _don’t_.”

 

And the main door closed.

Well. This is it.

There is the fifth season Hernan has yet to name.

When its _dark_ , but they still can feel summer’s sunlight on ripened grain. When it’s icy yet they’re still warm from the fall’s howling wind, nor the chirping of birds in quiet spring.

When it could _even_ be colder than any winter.

 

The rain must’ve known how many secrets were whispered this day.

**Author's Note:**

> \+ When is the actual birthday of Hernan? ~> //gigglesnort then shrugs  
> \+ Why are they keeping some cats? ~> //gigglesnort then shrugs (2)  
> \+ Why is the umbrella polkadot? ~> //gigglesnort then shrugs (3)


End file.
